I Hate Everything About You
by xSummerLove
Summary: Aya hates Sasori, a lot. SasorixOC


"I can't stand you're existence," I scowl extremely unhappily, glaring at the boy in front of me.

He just stares, not really caring. "If you hate me so, then leave."

"I have to train with my brother. You're the one intruding," I hiss back just as ruefully.

"Aya, settle down, I invited him so we could work with his puppets later," Ryuu calms me down.

My name is Shimoto Aya, sometimes referred to as Ito no Aya. Aya of the Threads...

I have a sibling, Shimoto Ryuu, a sweet older brother and one I looked up to. He was always messing with me, but usually nicer than anything to me especially.

But I couldn't stand his best friend, Akasuna no Sasori. The puppeteer knew how to wear on my last nerve and then scrap and whittle it down to nothing at all.

Mainly, our rivalry stood in place of our similar yet different Kekkei Genkai. He used chakra threads to control his puppets, whereas I could contort things into strands of various threads myself. As such, I could control the threads to do my whim, and they'd obey without another word.

"Couldn't you have told him to come around later," I roll my eyes. "I don't need his presence distracting me."

"You sure have a mouth for a seven year old," my brother snickers. "But I love you anyways!"

"You only have two years on me," I point out smartly, "and so does your annoying friend."

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut Aya," he smiles softly. "We might have some problems... again."

"Good for us," I hiss venomously. "Why do you have to be so annoying! Gyah!"

He stares me down. "Overreacting to such a small feud is childish."

"Shut it Puppet Boy," gathering my weapons and things of the such, I head towards the opening of the private training grounds of the large expanse of land known as the Shimoto Estate.

Yeah, my family was rich, but mainly because of what magnificent skills our Kekkei Genkai brought us. We all could bend things to build thread, but worked better with thread already made, or made by ourselves. Silk, though the hardest type of thread to make do as you wish was one of my favorites and most willing pieces.

My feet bring me straight into my room, a simple place with thick, beautiful bed with some of the finest silks hanging around like an Arabic Harem. There was even a corner filled with the most delicate and pricey of pillows so one could relax on it.

On the bedside table on each side was a lamp, shaded with a creamy shade. My dresser held a few things a seamstress and kunoichi such as myself would need for medicine and sewing purposes.

But what was the most striking thing about my room wasn't the spectacular decorating, but instead it was the numerous cloths lying around, the finished ones packed away in my dressed while many unfinished ones were littered all around. And I mean even hanging from the canopy of the delicate silk bedding.

I had designed and made every bit of fabric hanging around my room, sewed and hemmed, loomed and weaved, every little last bit in here. Even my own clothing, I had designed them and made them to my liking.

I yawn, dumping my weapons onto a chair, taking my senbon out of the necessary holsters around me. Medical needles where a must in my fights, I was an expert at them.

I plop unceremoniously onto my large bed, sprawling extremely unladylike across the comfortable fabrics. One could will themselves to sleep on this, I swear it wouldn't take but a minute to do so.

"Now which should I work on to calm my nerves?" I meant the unfinished cloths around my room, all begging to be worked with.

One particular piece called to me, a lovely black fixture with red threads used on the fabric, made entirely of thick velvet with dark, scarlet silk lining.

"Do you want me to work with you, beautiful," I smile warmly, getting up only to run a hand across the cloth. "Would you like me to make you into something useful? Or something elegant? Possibly something strong, durable, though delicate and useable? Well, what would you like my love?"

The threads pulsate underneath my small fingernails, as if laughing gleefully at my touch. I laugh with the soft fabrics exciting and loosening its bindings against itself, so to be easier to contort and work with.

"If only you were as nice to me as you were to this," a pale hand gently picks up the fabrics.

I stiffen, why hadn't I sensed this person entering my room? Only now did I realize my threads were calling to me, warning me of an intruder and scolding me for being so withdrawn into my one cloth to recognize them.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, traversing about the room and laying a gentle hand on each and every last roll of fabric. "I should have listened to you."

When I'm done, I turn to see Sasori was running his fingers across the large expanse of velvet and silk, eyeing it admirably.

The silk in the mixture begged to be away from strange, rough hands; no matter how gentle they were with the cloth, whereas the velvet enjoyed the touch, the tough feeling of callused fingers running over its surface.

"What are you doing in my room Sasori?" I hiss unhappily. "And if you don't mind, that silk doesn't like you handling it so roughly. Hand it over before it starts hating me for letting you handle it."

He narrows his eyes softly, handing it over slowly. I carefully run my hands over the soft silk, calming it, and then set it on the bed.

"Get out of my room Sasori," I plainly mumble, not looking at him.

"I was passing through, and your brother said any room is welcomed for me," he replies, just as simply.

I roll my eyes, turning to face him. "He meant everywhere but _my_ room!"

He smiles just a small one, turning to leave. "You're a skillful artist, Aya. You've made many pieces, no you've made every piece of fabric in this room from scratch haven't you?"

"Yes, I have," I nod. "My family teaches weaving when we're young, we learn to sew and such before we learn to talk even. It's just our way. The fabrics in here are everything I've done since I started. You know my story, now out!"

He lets out a snort; his back turned as he stifles out the door. Instantly, it felt as if all the air in the room was calmer, like the threads had taken a deep breath and released it.

Moments later, Ryuu bounces in, as hyper as ever.

"Hey little sister," he yawns, jumping onto the bed, "I need some help with my sewing."

"Brother, you know you have to learn on your own," I laugh gleefully, the moods of threads around now happy at the arrival of their sisters' family, their own brother.

"I know, and I know you're not supposed to help me," he holds up a yard of fabric, fashioned into some loose kind of net, "but this net here is giving me grief. I've made it as best I could, but I can't figure out what's wrong with it. It's mad at me about something."

I run my fingers over it, cringing painfully. "Wow, you sure did upset it Brother!"

"I know!" he whines pathetically. "Now every time I try to fix it, it 'bites' me."

"It doesn't 'bite' you," I use the same finger quotations as he did, "it's just upset at you. Look, this is why; you used cotton and silk together! Haven't you remember what Mother said? Silk and cotton don't like one another; they can get along only for short amounts of time, though it is possible for them to grow on one another. It's just very unlikely. Plus, silk is not a good thread to use to make fishnets."

"I know, but it wasn't for just any old net, it was for the fishnet lining of a new shirt, so I need it strong yet nice looking. It's for a special occasion."

"Oh really?" I eye him. "I can help I guess. You were trying to make it gold?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"You hate gold."

He grins cheekily. "You know me to well, Sister. It's for you."

"Oh really? And what special occasion am I going to?" I narrow my eyes. He was up to something.

"Uh," he laughs nervously, "first help me fix the cloth."

With a heaping sigh, I smile. "Fine. You need to choose either silk or cotton. Mortal enemies shouldn't have to clash and twine so."

"Alright, from the beginning then," he jumps up, snatching the netting away carefully. "Oh, and the special occasion," he gets halfway out the door, turning to face me with that large grin of his, "is Sasori's ninth birthday party in three days." With that said, he runs as fast as his long legs will carry him.

"RYUU!" I shriek, falling over onto my bed.

He did not really expect me to go to that... that... BRAT'S birthday did he?

That would be like asking me to... well I don't know what!

I walk over to my cloth, trying to decide what I'd do with the ebony beauty. The threads, as if speaking to me, whisper what seems to be one word.

_Cloak._ It whispers sweetly.

"So you want to be made into a cloak huh? How about I turn you into a cloak for Sasori since I need to have the annoying prick a present?" I sigh. "Though I know how much you detest him, silk."

I could feel the velvet wriggling, agreeing to the situation. Silk, being a close friend of velvet, soon enough agrees, eagerly wriggling beneath my fingers.

I laugh happily, grabbing a needle and thread, along with my sheers. Time to get to work on my enemy's birthday present.


End file.
